Of Fates and Fortunes
by Fleur de Nuit
Summary: Fate had brought them together. But will Fortune smile upon them? [Cloud x Tifa]
1. Card 00: The Fool

_Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 7 and its characters belong to Square-Enix. _

_XXX_

**Card 00: The Fool**

_XXX_

Back then, she had never really paid much attention to him. Sure, they both grew up and lived in the same town and he was practically her neighbor, but she had never _really_ noticed him. Of course, she knew a few things about him, like his name (who wouldn't remember such a strange name as 'Cloud') and his age (always one year older than herself, everyone was one year older than her), but past those sparse details, there was not much else she could say about him. They had played together on a few occasions, but they were never that close to each other, or so she thought. During those days, he was just an acquaintance, someone she vaguely knew.

It was only later, after she had woken up from her week-long coma, did she start to truly think about him. Her father had accused the boy of bringing her to the dangerous Nibel Mountains. He said that Cloud had almost gotten her killed. Her father, being the strict man he was, cautioned her to stay away from him. After all, he did not want to lose his child to the Lifestream now that she was his only treasure left.

But all of her father's accusations made Tifa think. Had Cloud really brought her to the Nibel Mountains? If he did, then why couldn't she remember seeing him? Was Cloud a bad person for bringing her to a place where so many people had met their end? The whole incident was rather hazy in her mind; sort of like a jig-saw puzzle whose pieces had gone missing. In fact, the more she contemplated about it, the more the few recollections and images would jumble and fuse together, creating an undecipherable whole. In the end, she would stop trying to make sense of her thoughts. She decided that she would forget the whole incident.

Then, a few weeks later, she received an invitation from none other than Cloud himself, saying to meet him at the well in the town square that night. At first, she was reluctant. Her father did warn her to stay away from him. But Tifa was also puzzled at his invitation. She didn't know him very well, and his invite came as a bit of a surprise. Nonetheless, she came, albeit a bit late, as she didn't want to leave the house before she was sure her father had fallen asleep.

"Sorry I'm late", she whispered, taking a seat at the base of the well. "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Cloud hesitated for a moment, before saying, "Come this spring… I'm leaving town for Midgar."

Her legs, which had been swinging from the moment she sat down (a nervous tic, her father had called it), stopped suddenly. " … All the boys are leaving town."

"But I'm different from all of them. I'm not just going to find a job." His answer came quickly, desperately. "I'm going to join SOLDIER. I'm going to be the best there is, just like Sephiroth."

Even then, Tifa could detect the tinge of pride in his voice when he spoke to her about his ambitions. His admiration for the grand general Sephiroth was nearly a tangible thing. Then again, many people in their town praised the general for his outstanding bravery in battle, his remarkable swordsmanship and his unparalleled abilities as military tactician and war strategist.

"Sephiroth… The Great Sephiroth," she sighed. She did not understand why such a person, a killer, was worshipped. As the silence between them stretched, she added, "Isn't it hard to join SOLDIER?" From what she had heard, only the best of the best would be admitted into that class.

"... I probably won't be able to come back to this town for a while," Cloud agreed from his place at the top of the well.

Tifa's heart skipped a beat. Though they were not close friends, she would still miss him. The road to becoming SOLDIER was a long and dangerous one. This made her worry for his well-being. "Will you be in the newspapers if you do well?" _How will I know what's going to happen to you? How will I know if you're still safe and sound?_

"I'll try."

"Hey, why don't we make a promise?" He had to come back to Nibelheim. She had to make sure of it. "Umm…" She couldn't think of anything. But she had to. She HAD to. "If you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind… You come save me, all right?" Good. That way, he had to come back.

"What?" he questioned. He sounded incredulous, sort of like he wanted to reject the idea.

"Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to experience that at least once." Now that wasn't a lie. She had always dreamt a knight in shining armor would come to save her, the damsel in distress, if she was in any danger.

… Blame it on the fantasy novels she was reading.

Cloud's only response was another surprised "What?"

Tifa turned around, hands clasped in front of her, eyes pleading. "Come on---! Promise me? Please?"

Cloud's ocean blue eyes searched her face in order to find some kind of hint showing that this was a deception, a joke, being played on him. He saw her lips form a thin line and he noticed her brows furrow ever so slightly. However, as his eyes locked with her burgundy ones, all his doubts were dispelled. In her orbs, he had read nothing but sincerity and concern… And was that _sadness?_

The boy nodded a little, "All right…"

The girl looked up expectantly at him, waiting patiently for the verdict.

"I promise," he finished.

And Cloud had never seen such a radiant smile light up her features until now. It was one of the things he would never – could never – forget, he was sure of it.

_XXX_

_The Fool: New Beginnings, Innocence, Adventure_


	2. Card I: The Magician

_Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 7 and all its characters belong to their rightful owners. _

…

_Which doesn't happen to be me. _

_XXX_

**Card I: The Magician**

_XXX_

"No, that's still wrong, Tifa. Your guard weakens after you attack, leaving your left flank open to a riposte! Had I been an adversary truly wishing to harm you, you would have gotten seriously injured."

Zangan stands, looming over her, his muscled arms crossing over his broad chest. His hair, which had been carefully brushed and tied back an hour ago, is now sagging under the sweltering heat, the locks damp with perspiration. A worried frown is etched upon his face.

"Are you alright, Tifa?" the man asks, crouching in front of said girl, who is sprawled ungracefully – belly first – on the ground.

Undeniably, the brunette is not faring so well. Her breathing is ragged: her lungs greedily suck in air, but at the same time, burn whenever she inhales. There is the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and it has become hard for her to swallow. Her whole body is covered in sweat and dirt and bruises, and she is certain that her left side will soon turn a lovely shade of purple. The muscles in the girl's body are shaking from exertion, maybe even from over-exertion. Her braid has long since unfurled, allowing her chocolate colored tresses to stick to the side of her face and upper arms. Her vision is spinning; sometimes she sees doubles and other times, she sees triples. She doesn't take this as a good sign.

A hand fretfully touches Tifa's shoulder, and then proceeds to help her sit upright. Before she knows it, a water bottle is being shoved under her nose.

The girl manages to take hold of the container: it feels heavier than normal, like a ton of bricks, to her shaky arms. "Thanks," she murmurs, smiling weakly, before gulping down the cool liquid. The water works wonders on her throat, though she has to take little sips. Finally, she sets the bottle down and looks up into the concerned face of her teacher.

"Maybe we should call it a day," Zangan proposes. "You have been working very hard, and I congratulate you, but pushing yourself over your physical limits will not help. Quit for today. I will bring you home and then you can wash up and rela—"

"No," Tifa cuts the man off as she unsteadily gets to her feet. "I'm fine. We can continue for a while." There is that steely glint of determination in her eyes, and Zangan has been teaching her long enough to understand that she will not take "no" for an answer right now.

"I'm not going to quit yet," she says, stretching her constricted muscles before going into an offensive stance. Her lips stretch into a confident smile, and barely a second later, she's charging straight at Zangan.

Indeed, she's not going to quit: she already has all those nasty bruises, so she might as well get a few more. After all, this would be worth it in the end.

Because she thinks that if she gets stronger, she will be able to go out and find Cloud if he doesn't come back to Nibelheim. Because then, Cloud won't need to save her every time something comes up.

Because then, she will be the one to save Cloud if ever _he's_ in a bind. (Since, in her mind, even guys need to be saved sometimes…)

_XXX_

_The Magician: Power, Action, Concentration, Mastery_


	3. Card II: The High Priestess

_Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 7 and all its characters belong to their rightful owners. _

_XXX_

**Card II: The High Priestess**

_XXX_

She couldn't sleep that night.

Well, in fact, it wasn't that Tifa couldn't sleep; it was that she would keep on waking up, mere minutes after she had dozed off. It wasn't because she was uncomfortable: summer nights in the Slums were always cool. It wasn't because she wasn't tired. Hell, she had been living on borrowed time for a while now, what with the resistance meetings in the day and her work as bartender at night. It had nothing to do with the nightmares that she sometimes had: a flash of steel, crimson rain, a dull thud, searing pain. But, her restless state had something to do with the nagging feeling she kept experiencing.

And it was that feeling, that faint tug of the mind, which kept her awake.

It was that nagging feeling that something was expected of her, that she was forgetting something important, that she should be somewhere else, that she would miss an event that she had been waiting for, that _something was wrong. _

Seeing as rest was not going to be an option (but she _really_ did want to catch some shut eye, Mondays were the only nights she didn't work…), Tifa rolled around in her bed one last time before she grudgingly sat up. Brushing her bangs from her eyes, the woman untangled her legs from the sheets and stood up. She blindly searched for her fluffy, Chocobo-shaped slippers (a gift from Marlene celebrating her 20th birthday) and, after having found the oh-so-yellow flip-flops, slowly started for the bathroom.

Once there, Tifa flicked the lights on, squinting under the harsh glare of the mako powered tubes. She sluggishly made her way to the sink and proceeded to wash away all the traces of sleep, or lack thereof. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she fingered the dark circles under her eyes and sighed.

"I'll have to ask Barret for a break from the resistance meetings… Or, I'll have to close my bar for a few days."

Then, opening the window next to the toilet with much difficulty, the brunette leaned on the open sill and took a deep breath. The air smelt of rain and dirt and smoke and poverty, a distinctive scent that she had finally become accustomed to. There was a fresh breeze that sent shivers up Tifa's spine, and wayward rain drops landed on her face. The city was completely dark, almost as if it had been sucked into a black hole; only the flickering mako signs hinted that thousands and thousands of people lived in this dark, dark void. In contrast, if anyone would take the time to stop and listen for a while, they would hear the shouts of the many gangs who roamed the streets, even during such a downpour. They would hear the cries of all the homeless children, orphans since the Wutai-ShinRa war. And they would, at long last, perceive the wails of the poor, the suffering, the sick; the endless moans coming from the people living in the Slums.

Over there, there was only one law. The law of the jungle: the survival of the fittest. Or in this case, the survival of the most cunning and treacherous. This place, Tifa had thought to herself more than once already, was the complete opposite of her hometown of Nibelheim.

Suddenly, piercing the oppressing darkness, flashing red lights went off in the distance like a firefly at night. A low whistle, the screeching of tires and the grinding of gears were heard. Tifa had to rack her brain before coming to the conclusion that a train had come to a stop at the Sector 7 station. It was probably the last train coming in that night.

Tifa's fine brows knotted together in a frown, her lips forming a grim line. Her eyes followed the blinking red lights as they continued forward, but at a reduced speed. Somehow, just now, she had felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her. As her eyes trailed after the moving lights, her sense of restlessness and anxiety grew. It was if something was amiss, something was calling to her.

It was a strange phenomenon, this sudden, tugging feeling. Though she hadn't been expecting anyone to arrive, especially at this time of the night, her mind and soul told her that she _needed _to be there. Something told her that if she missed this event, she would bitterly regret it.

Tifa quickly ran to her room and hastily pulled on the first pieces of clothing that came into view: her barmaid outfit.

There had already been too many things that she had bitterly regretted, and she refused to add another one to her growing list. She was definitely not going to miss this chance. The woman slid her boots on and rapidly tied them up. She headed down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible (for Marlene was a light sleeper, unlike her father), and landed on the first floor of her bar. She frowned as her eyes landed upon the empty space where her umbrella usually stood. Barret must have probably forgotten it somewhere, as he had the bad habit of doing.

Talk about bad timing.

Sighing, Tifa wasted no time in grabbing her windbreaker from the coat rack and she promptly put it on. Within the next moment, she was out of the threshold, was securely locking the door and was sprinting down the lane, en route for the train station.

It must have seemed strange: following the slight tug of the heart, following a certain feeling, a peculiar sensation. Not knowing what you're supposed to be doing, not knowing what you would discover at the end of your journey.

But the fact was that Tifa really did follow her heart. It was her philosophy; every action she had ever accomplished followed that idea. Of course, Tifa also did listen to her common sense.

Just not this time. Not even the knowledge of various gangs prowling the roads like hungry lions could persuade her to turn back. Even if she knew that people, especially women, were often attacked in the dark of the night, she didn't change her mind. Even if she was fully aware that she may just end up finding nothing waiting for her at the train station, she would at least have a clear conscience.

Tifa steeled her will and accelerated her pace. This time, she was simply following her intuition.

And it had yet to fail her.

_XXX_

_The High Priestess: Intuition, Wisdom, Education, Mystery_

_XXX_

A.N.: Sorry for the long, long, _long_ wait... Real life hasn't been very kind to me as of late. And add to that the fact that I wasn't very happy about how this chapter turned out when I first wrote it, so I kept on tweaking at it. Even now, I was still a bit reluctant to put it up.

I hope this meets your expectations and I thank you for taking your time to read this.

(And thanks to those who reviewed. You guys are so nice and I hope that I haven't already lost you to longer and better stories! And seeing as I'm not quite technologically inclined, I haven't discovered how to reply personally to your reviews... Pointers, anyone?)


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